His Rose
by Aemilia Rose
Summary: The title says it all: My version of the Sam and Rosie story. Completed.
1. Waiting and Wishing

With a sigh, Rose sat down with her back to the tree, looking hurriedly left and right to make sure no one else was around; she knew she shouldn't have left home by herself with the Shire the way it was, but she wanted some time to think. She took her hand and gently touched the bark on the tree trunk. It was one of the few trees left. The ruffians had reduced all of the others in the area to stumps. A lonely tear fell down Rose's cheek. So many trees . . . gone, just like that. Suddenly, a sob shook her shoulders. Sam would have cried too, if he had been here.  
  
Quickly wiping the tears away, she turned her head to look down towards the road.  
  
*Don't cry Rosie. I'll be back. I promise. *  
  
Once again, she broke down into tears, silently scolding herself for not being able to hold them back. She had held onto hope all these past months that he would be back. She knew that he would do everything in his power to keep his word.  
  
Nearly everyone she knew was concerned about her. They thought that she was simply clinging to hope that did not exist. Every morning, she gazed out the window, hoping for her lost special someone to come striding up to their doorstep, and every morning, her mother would say,  
  
"Now, Rosie. I know it's hard for you. You cared for that boy so much, but I think its time you moved on."  
  
'If they had their way, I would have given up on Sam and married someone else long ago.' Rosie thought sulkily.  
  
It was true. She had cared for Sam. More than even she realized at the time. And it wasn't until that one fateful day that she realized that her Sam had cared for her too.  
  
And yet she had let him leave, let him follow his master to Crickhollow. Then came the news that they, along with Frodo's cousins, Merry and Pippin, had been seen going into the Old Forest. By most, they were considered gone for good.  
  
'But not me.' Not being able to keep them away, bitter thoughts filled Rosie's mind. 'Not Rosie. Nope. I can't deal with it. I have to keep making vain wishes that my Sam is going to just walk down the road someday.'  
  
Rosie frantically rubbed tears from her cheeks, only to have more come splashing down. She thought back to the first night after he had left, and the vow her heart had spoken: 'I'll be here Sam. Even if you're gone 'til the Sun dies, I'll be waiting for you." Rosie grasped the faith in these words and, no longer trying to quell her tears, reached into her apron pocket.  
  
She pulled her hand back out and opened it, revealing a small glass figure; it was a rose.  
  
A teardrop fell from her eye, and she watched as it landed on the rose. Tear and glass rose; both beautiful, capturing light in their smooth and shining surfaces; both clear, colorless, and empty but for the grieving lamentations echoing from Rosie's heart.  
  
TBC 


	2. Min

Note: The first and last chapters take place at a different time than the middle chapters, which will be numbered in elvish rather than having chapter titles. I'm hoping this will prevent confusion. (By the way, thank to those who've reviewed my stories. I like reviews!)  
  
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Sam awoke with a start. He found himself leaning against a big oak tree on the side of the road, and for a moment, he forgot how he got there. But then it suddenly came all back to him in a rush.  
  
"I only meant to sit and rest for a moment!" He gasped, leaping to his feet. "I've got to get myself back to Bag End and quick! I haven't watered Mr. Frodo's garden yet today, and I'll be more than half lucky if half the flowers aren't half-dead!" After pausing a moment at the wording of his statement, he looked up at the sky worriedly, noticing that the sun was much lower in the sky than when he'd last seen it. Hurrying down the hill, he began race down the road.  
  
"I can't believe I let myself doze off." He muttered to himself. "I must have been more exhausted than I realized." He remembered the day before, and how he had not gotten home until late. Frodo, he had noticed, had been increasingly distressed lately. It was drawing near to the time when they would have to leave the Shire, but he didn't want to leave Bag End until his birthday in September, and the wizard Gandalf, who had promised Frodo that he would return before then, had still not returned. Trying to keep his mind off of his growing anxiety, Frodo had spent most of the day attempting to organize the mess of papers that cluttered up Bilbo's Study (he still liked to call it that, even though Bilbo had left). After Sam was done working in the yard, he had come in and helped his master with the daunting task. It was quite late when they had finally finished, and his Gaffer had a thing or two to say about the hour Sam had gotten home. To make matters worse, he had been woken at some unearthly hour of the morning (even for an early-riser such as he) by his little sister Marigold's pet kitten who thought Sam's foot would make a fun play toy.  
  
Sam yawned tiredly as he finally reached the gate of Bag End. He had better hurry with the watering if he wanted to get a more decent amount of sleep than the night before.  
  
He had only begun to fill up the watering can when his eyes started to droop. He shook his head in an attempt to wake himself up, and when he raised his head up once more, he saw her.  
  
His eyes, unable to tear their gaze away, followed her as she walked past the gate, carrying a small basket filled with flowers. She was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her gait was as light as he imagined an elf's to be; smooth and graceful making her appear in Sam's eyes more fair than the fairest angel that could descend from the sky. Cascading down her back and on her shoulders were soft, brown curls of hair, which framed her beautiful face.  
  
Sam strained his vision, trying to get a better glimpse of her through the growing darkness of night. If only he could get a closer view of her eyes, which even from the distance from which he was standing, shone from the reflected light of the rising moon, making Sam's heart beat so fast he thought it would burst.  
  
But almost as soon as he saw her, she was gone, turning the corner around the hill, and Sam was torn from his daze. Trying to ignore his sudden inexplicable sadness that she was gone, he hastily completed his garden work, and headed home. He was already half-asleep when he crawled into bed, and fell asleep instantly.  
  
In the morning, he dismissed the girl he had seen as a figment of a lovely dream. 


	3. Tad

After grabbing a muffin for breakfast as he passed through the kitchen, Sam headed outside to begin the day's chores. It was a beautiful sunny day, he had noticed that morning when he had opened his curtains to let in the sunlight, and he was much more well rested than the day before.  
  
He could hardly believe that he had let himself become so lethargic that he imagined seeing a beautiful girl walk down the road! He would certainly never let it happen again.  
  
When he had gotten out the door, he noticed his Gaffer weeding the vegetable garden. "Good morning, Pa!" He called out.  
  
The Gaffer looked up from his work, wiping a hand across his sweaty brow. "Oh! Good morning, Sam. Say, are gonna be busy today?"  
  
Sam thought for a moment. "No, I have nothing more to do except the regular chores and such. Why?"  
  
Putting down his gardening tools, the Gaffer came to Sam and put a hand on his shoulder. "You know my friend Tom Cotton, right?"  
  
"Yes," Sam replied. Although he didn't know the man very well, he had met Farmer Cotton a couple of times when he and his Gaffer went into town.  
  
The Gaffer, seeing his son nod, replied, "Alright, well his oldest son has come down with something, and so the family's had a hard time getting work done on the farm with one less pair of hands. I thought that maybe you could go and help 'em out."  
  
Sam answered without a moment's hesitation. "Sure, Pa. Just tell me their farm is and I'll head on over there."  
  
The Gaffer smiled. "I knew you'd be willing to help, my boy."  
  
After receiving brief directions, Sam headed down the road.  
  
******************************************  
  
A few minutes later, the Cotton farm was in sight. Sam left the main road, and walked up the path leading to the front door.  
  
Halfway there, he stopped dead in his tracks.  
  
It was not the Hobbit hole that caught his attention, nor the rather well kept garden of delicate flowers. It was just an ordinary Hobbit hole, down the round windows and doors, and though otherwise the blooms in the garden would have caught his eye, he ignored them as if they did not exist.  
  
His entire awareness was centered on the young woman kneeling in the garden pulling out small weeds.  
  
For the few moments that he stood there, Sam could only comprehend one thing: 'She was real. I didn't just imagine she was there.'  
  
Sam continued staring. Although her hands were filthy from the digging in the dirt, her hair was sweaty and hung in her face, her dress was old and faded, and dirt had streaked her face, Sam could not grasp how such a gorgeous creature could possibly exist outside his dreams.  
  
She looked up, seemingly noticing him for the first time. It was then that Sam could finally see her eyes. They were a deep, honey brown. Sam's breath caught in his throat as she leapt up from her work and skipped down the path to him.  
  
When she reached him, she held out her hand, smiling, and said, "Hi! I'm Rose, but you can call me Rosie. What's your name? I expect you're here to see my father?"  
  
Sam could only stare stupidly at her outstretched hand. 'Rosie . . .' he thought to himself, 'what a pretty name . . . if there was any name that could match her beauty, that would be it . . ."  
  
He then realized that her smile had faded and she was staring at him curiously. What had she asked him again? Something about a name. Oh yes! His name! What was it, she had asked.  
  
"My name . . ." Sam paused. What was it again? His mind was whirling around in confusion. ". . . um . . . Sam. Uh, Sam . . . Samwise Gamgee." He slowly extended his hand to shake hers, trying to stop it from shaking.  
  
Her striking smile returned to brighten her features. "Oh! You must be my father's friend Mr. Hamfast Gamgee's son, right?"  
  
Sam fumbled for the right words. "Uh, yeah. He . . . sent me to . . ." Sam paused again. "To . . . help Mr. Cotton with . . . the farm . . ."  
  
She laughed, and Sam almost laughed himself at the cheerfulness that seemed to radiate from her. "Oh yes, he said that one of his friends was going to come help, since young Tom came down with the flu. But my goodness! You seem to have a lot of trouble getting words out of you!"  
  
Sam felt his cheeks flush with heat, and seeing him blush set her off laughing again. "Aw, you're a shy boy. Well, my father and younger brother's are over by the barn. Go ahead and go on over there! It was nice meeting you Sam, hopefully I see you again sometime."  
  
Sam managed to get a smile on his bewildered features. "Nice meeting you too . . . Rosie . . ." He almost didn't say her name for fear of sullying it. "I hope . . . your brother gets better."  
  
Rosie waved as she headed back to her garden patch. "Of course he will! He's a fast healer. Bye Sam!"  
  
"Bye . . . Rosie . . ." he managed to stutter out, but she did not hear him, for she was already busy again, yanking weeds out of the soil. Sam, after taking a few deep breaths to calm himself, turned and stumbled towards the barn.  
  
It goes without saying that he had a hard time concentrating on his work.  
  
TBC 


	4. Neled

Sorry about not updating for a few days. I really wanted to, but my English project kept getting in the way (so blame my English teacher).  
  
Please read, enjoy, and review. I'd appreciate it.  
  
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"G'bye Mr. Cotton!" Sam called, waving over his shoulder, as he turned around the corner of the barn to head home. It had been a long day, and the sun was sinking, casting purple shadows on the low-flying clouds.  
  
Sam took a deep breath as the front of the hobbit hole came into view, only to notice that Rosie was not in sight. Trying to conceal his disappointment in case anyone could see him, he shrugged his shoulders slightly and continued down the path. He had only caught sight of her briefly since the morning, when she and her mother had come outside to hang the laundry out to dry. After noticing him, she had waved enthusiastically, but Sam had only managed a small and weak acknowledgment in return.  
  
Now Sam was shuffling slowly towards his home with his head down and eyes staring blankly at the patterns of dust on the road. He had never met anyone like Rosie before. He had hardly met her, let alone know much about her besides her name, and yet he knew that she was profoundly special; more special than someone the likes of him. Sam sighed deeply. He would be lucky if he could manage to say "good morning" to her next time he saw her. His breathing quickened. 'Next time?" He thought desperately. "I can't risk being around her that much; I'd surely make a complete fool of myself!' Being so involved in his thoughts, he didn't hear the shout until too late.  
  
" . . . . away! Hey you, kid! Watch where you're goin' there!" Sam looked up in surprise, to see a large wagon, led by two ponies, come speeding up the road heading directly towards him. With it being so dreadfully close, Sam did the only thing he could do: jump promptly off to the side of the road.  
  
He hit the ground hard on his left ankle, rolling a few feet before slowing enough for him to look up and watch the wagon disappear rapidly in the distance with a cloud of dust.  
  
Glancing down at himself, and his now dirty and stained clothing, he sighed. Well, there was no doubt now that he'd be the one gifted the opportunity to do the wash tonight.  
  
Sighing once again, he began to rise to his feet - only to gasp loudly at the pain shooting through his ankle, and sit promptly back down. Quickly, he pushed his pant leg up to get a better look at his now aching ankle. Other than some bruises, it did not seem to be too badly damaged, not broken anyways, but it hurt terribly. He must have twisted it in the fall.  
  
Well, he had to get home, whether he was in a little discomfort or not. So pushing himself up and trying to block the pain from his mind, Sam stumbled a few steps forward. When his breath began to come in gasps and his eyes began to glisten with unshed tears that he was trying to suppress, he decided that it would be best to sit back down.  
  
What was he going to do? He couldn't just sit here by the road all night. Sam thought for a moment. 'Well,' he considered, 'I am by the road. Eventually someone I know will drop by, and go home and tell my Gaffer where I am.' So, he leaned back against a nearby rock and waited.  
  
He didn't have to wait long.  
  
A few minutes later, he heard the footsteps of someone coming up the road. As quickly as he could, he pulled himself to his feet, grabbing the rock for support, and called out, "Hello? Is someone there?"  
  
"Sam? Is that you?" Sam almost fell over at the sound of that voice, for he recognized the gorgeous face that had just come into view.  
  
"M-Miss Rose?" Sam stuttered, while all the while thinking to himself, 'And I just finished telling myself that I'd make a fool out of myself in front of her. First on the list: twisted ankle. Second: stuttering. What next?'  
  
Rosie hurried to his side, her honey brown eyes filled with worry. 'That's strange.' Sam thought. 'She hardly knows me. Why would she be worried?'  
  
"Sam! What happened?" She asked anxiously. "You should be home by now shouldn't you?"  
  
"W-well, Miss Rose," Sam mumbled, "Y-you see, there was this wagon that w- was coming down the road real fast, and I jumped out of the way, a-and I think I twisted my ankle on the way down . . ."  
  
"Well you were lucky then that my Mama sent me to the store to get some bread!" Rosie interrupted, the worry in her eyes partially replaced by mirth. "Even though when I got there, the man told me that they had recently run out of bread, and that they might have more by tomorrow. 'Tomorrow!' I said to him! 'Now wait you just a minute! My family sent me here to get bread for our dinner, and..'" She broke off slowly, seeming to realize that Sam was still there, supporting himself against the rock. "Oops!" She brought her hand to her forehead. "I'm sorry Sam. You need to be getting home don't you?"  
  
Sam chuckled a little. "You sure do talk a lot, Miss Rose."  
  
Rosie suddenly laughed. "Yes, I guess I do. And its just Rosie. You don't have to be so formal, Mr. Sam."  
  
At this, Sam also burst out laughing.  
  
After waiting a moment to calm their giggles, Rosie offered a hand to Sam. "Come on, Sam. I'll help you get home. Now, lean on me okay?"  
  
Sam was shocked. "Are you sure you can support me all the way to Bagshot Row?" He asked, abruptly looking away, embarrassed. "I'm not exactly . . . little."  
  
Rosie put a hand under his chin and forced him to look into her rather indignant eyes. "Answer me this, Sam. Are you saying that you're fat, or that I'm too weak to do more than carry a little basket of flowers to decorate the hearth with? Both are untrue, so you are GOING to let me help you get home, understood?"  
  
A stunned Sam, his cheeks now a shade of bright red, nodded just enough to let her know that he did not believe he would get the better of the argument. She put her arm around his shoulders, and after waiting for him to do the same, they began to hobble down the road.  
  
Sam was surprised to see her support him with very little effort. "Your very strong, Rosie."  
  
Smiling faintly, she replied, "Didn't think that a little Hobbit girl could do this, huh?"  
  
He didn't answer, but returned her faint smile.  
  
It wasn't long before they staggered to the doorstep of Sam's house. Right before Rosie lifted a fist to knock on the round door, she turned and whispered in Sam's ear. "Just so you know Sam, you're not fat, just a little chubby, and don't feel bad about that, because I like you that way."  
  
She giggled as she saw his cheeks flare crimson in response.  
  
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Wow! I guess that I decided to write a very long chapter to make up for not writing for a while! I hope you liked it. Please review! 


	5. Canad

Sorry for not updating for.. for.. a long time. At least I didn't leave you off at a cliffhanger or something. Anyway. I hope you enjoy this chapter! (By the way, does anyone know if I am required to do a disclaimer? I just realized that I haven't been doing them, and practically all the other authors do, and I don't want to get in some kind of trouble. I'd really appreciate it if someone cleared this up for me. Thanks!)  
  
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"Mr. Frodo, do you want these books in this box or the large one?" Sam called out, pausing before placing the stack of papers down.  
  
"The large one." Came a voice from the other room.  
  
Hearing this, Sam packed away the books in the large box sitting on the bed (noting that they wouldn't have fit in the smaller box anyway). It was two days until he would accompany Frodo to Crickhollow, and he was now helping Frodo load his possessions into boxes so that they could be easily carried to Buckland in wagons.  
  
Sam was thankful that his ankle was giving him few troubles this morning. The previous evening, after Rosie had left and after his Gaffer had called him "ninnyhammer" more than a few times, he had tucked himself into bed, worrying that his ankle would keep him from his work the next day. He was relieved to find that some rest and some ice were all his ankle needed, and he could get around fairly well with only a slight limp.  
  
As soon as he shoved the last book into the box, pushing extremely hard to get the lid closed, he sat down on the bed to rest for a moment. From where he sat, he had a perfect view outside the small round window into the garden; there were roses growing right by the window. He stared. They were lovely, soft petals stained a deep red. He smiled, for he knew a rose that was far more beautiful.  
  
While he was staring wistfully out the window, Frodo walked in carrying another box. "Sam, I thought we should start taking the boxes outside, and . . ." he noticed Sam's blank staring eyes. "Sam! Are you there?"  
  
Sam jerked out of his reverie. "Yes!? What?" He saw Frodo standing there with a large box and immediately jumped up to take it.  
  
Frodo set the box down on the floor with the others before Sam could get there. "That must have been some pleasant dream world you were in, Sam." He said, grinning.  
  
Sam looked down at his feet, mumbling a few incoherent words. Frodo, still smiling, just shook his head. "Anyway Sam, as I was going to say, I thought he should start bringing the boxes outside. It won't be long now until Merry, Pippin, Fatty, and the others come with the wagons."  
  
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Frodo was correct. No sooner had they come outside that three wagons came rolling up toward the hill. Some of Frodo's friends, Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrin Took, and Fredegar Bolger among them, had come to assist in the final stages of the packing. A few hours later, two wagons filled with furniture from Bag End were driven away, leaving just Frodo, Merry, Pippin, Sam, and Fatty at Bag End with a few last boxes to be taken in the third wagon the next morning.  
  
After the wagons were out of sight, the five hobbits took a break for afternoon tea.  
  
No sooner had they begun to eat, Sam felt himself being drowned in his reverie once more. Though Pippin and Fatty seemed too engrossed in their meal to detect this, it did not go unnoticed by Frodo and Merry.  
  
"Frodo," Merry whispered, so that the daydreamer could not hear (not that he would have even if Merry was shouting). "Have you noticed that Sam seems rather . . . detached today?"  
  
Frodo nodded slightly. "Yes, I have seen him slip into a daze several times. I wonder what is wrong with him?"  
  
Merry pursed his lips in frustration. "I don't know if anything is wrong, it doesn't seem like he's depressed or anything."  
  
Frodo sighed. "Well, we'll just have to wait and see."  
  
At this point, Pippin looked up from his plate, noting that the butter was clear at the other end of the table by Sam. Thinking it plainly unnatural to eat his bread without butter, he asked Sam, "Can you pass the butter, Sam?"  
  
Sam jolted as he was yanked from his daydream, spoke while still half in his fantasy, "Yes Rosie?"  
  
All of the hobbits at the table stared shocked.  
  
Sam, apparently not aware of what he had said, shifted in his seat, uncomfortable from the gawking faces of his friends. "What's everyone staring at?"  
  
After another pause, Pippin ventured hesitantly, "You . . . you just called me, Rosie."  
  
Sam's face paled, and then flushed scarlet. He managed a weak, "I did?"  
  
Fatty, setting down his fork, smirked. "You have your eyes on a lass, haven't you?"  
  
"Well . . ."  
  
"Oh Sam that's wonderful!" Pippin burst out. "How many times have you had dinner with her yet?"  
  
Sam blinked. "None."  
  
Merry gasped. "That won't do! Here, I know! Why don't you ask her to go with you on a picnic dinner by the lake!"  
  
Fatty's face brightened even more. "Yes! That would be perfect!"  
  
"But . . ." Sam tried to cut in.  
  
"You do want to, don't you Sam?" Merry asked, concern showing briefly on his face. "You'll never get to know her more without spending some time with her, Sam. What's keeping you from asking?"  
  
Sam, turning an even redder shade, looked down at his plate.  
  
"Merry," Said Frodo, who had remained silent through most of this. "I think he's shy and nervous."  
  
Pippin clapped his hands. "Well if that's all that's all that's keeping him back!"  
  
Fatty nodded. "Yes, that's easy to fix!"  
  
"Don't worry Sam!" Merry added. "We'll help you with that!"  
  
They spent the next hour giving Sam tips and suggestions, and he listened raptly, but then they came to the subject of flowers.  
  
"You should bring her some flowers, Sam!" Insisted Merry. "All lasses love flowers."  
  
"True," said Sam, "But what kind?"  
  
"Any kind, Sam!" Pippin burst out.  
  
"As long as they're pretty, they'll do," declared Fatty.  
  
"No, you don't understand," said Sam, dejectedly. "I would be afraid to give her flowers. Rosie is more beautiful than any flower, and compared to she, all blossoms, no matter how pleasing to the eye, would be overshadowed." Sam paused, slightly embarrassed at his words. "Besides," he continued softly, "I don't think that Rosie would like me pulling flowers from the ground. She likes gardens like me, and I'd rather keep them in the ground so they can keep growing."  
  
The other hobbits sighed. "Then what are you going to do?"  
  
Sam thought for a moment, and then his face brightened suddenly. "I have an idea! Hold on, I'll be right back." He stumbled out the door so fast, that the hobbits left at the table barely had time to blink. A few minutes later, Sam came hurrying back in with a small, wooden box in his hand.  
  
As soon as he sat down, Pippin said excitedly, "What's in there?"  
  
Sam glared at him for a split second. "You'll find out in a moment if you could just hold your horses for a few seconds!"  
  
Sam sat down at the table, and blew dust from the lid. "This box," he said quietly, "holds a few things that belonged to my mother. I keep them here to remember her by." The other hobbits stared in silence as he opened the lid, revealing a few random objects inside. But Sam had his eye on one in particular, and slowly pulled it out. There was a collective gasp of breath from the hobbits.  
  
It was a glass figure of a rose, perfectly shaped, and it caught the light from the candles and glittered. Sam smiled at their reaction. "It's pretty isn't it? It's the only thing I can think of that can even come close to being as pretty as Rosie."  
  
Pippin, shocked, spoke softly, "You're really going to give her something that belonged to your mother?"  
  
Sam nodded. "I want it to be special."  
  
Everyone at the table smiled. Merry spoke first. "It's settled then."  
  
*********************************************  
  
The rest of the day was spent finishing the packing, and when dinner drew near, preparing Sam for the picnic.  
  
Finally Sam, with a basket filled with food, a blanket, and his gift on his arm, began to head out the door, but Frodo spoke with him quietly first.  
  
"Sam," he said. "The others don't know that we're not going to stay in Crickhollow. They think that you'll still be able to come back here and visit her, but you're not, Sam."  
  
Sam swallowed hard. "I understand, Mr. Frodo."  
  
Frodo nodded, but he wasn't finished talking yet. "I don't want you to get hurt, Sam. If you really love this girl, I don't want you to feel compelled to leave her to come with me on this journey. I'm telling you now, that you can stay here, with Rosie."  
  
Sam shook his head. "No, Mr. Frodo. I'm coming with you no matter what."  
  
Frodo, smiled a little, but his face was still shadowed by sorrow for his friend. "But then, you'll have to leave her . . ."  
  
Sam shook his head again. "Listen to me, Mr. Frodo. I may love the girl, but I'm still coming with you. We may be gone a while, but I know we'll be back soon."  
  
Frodo's smile got stronger. "I hope you're right, Sam." He then nodded toward the road. "You better get going. Good luck, Sam."  
  
Sam nodded, and began to head toward the Cotton farm.  
  
Before he knew it, he was there, and knocking on the door.  
  
TBC 


	6. Leben

I'm back again from another long break from writing. Sorry about that, but I actually tried to update sooner. Two days ago, I sat down in front of the computer, put my fingers on the keyboard . . . and stared stupidly at the empty page on the word processor. Ten minutes passed before I realized that I wasn't getting anywhere. Hopefully today I'll be in a better writing mood. (And hopefully you all are in a good reviewing mood!)  
  
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Sam raised his hand tentatively to the door and knocked softly. It did not escape his notice that his hand was trembling as he brought it back down to his side. 'Come on, Sam!' he chided himself silently. 'It's just Rosie. What are you so afraid of?'  
  
A few deep breaths and mental admonishments later, he stood up straight and prepared, feeling that he could take on anything.  
  
The door opened, and he was greeted with Rosie's smiling face. "Sam!" she exclaimed gleefully. "It's good to see you! What brings you here?"  
  
Suddenly, the readiness he had felt just ten seconds earlier fled as quickly as if it had been physically drained from him. He opened his mouth to speak, and it took a few moments for words to form. "It's good to . . . to see you too Rosie." He wet his lips and prepared to try again, but Rosie beat him to it, noting the basket he had on his arm.  
  
"Ooh! A basket! Are you going on a picnic, Sam? Tonight is such a beautiful night for a picnic, don't you think? Well of course you think so! Why else would you be going on one?!" The words flew from her mouth more quickly with each passing second. Sam, too busy mustering up his courage, did not notice the expectant glimmer in her eyes.  
  
"I just came by to . . ." Sam began hesitantly, looking down at his feet, " . . . to see if you . . . maybe . . ." He paused, expecting Rosie to break in again, but when he glanced up at her, he simply found her honey- brown eyes staring back into his as if trying to read his thoughts. After a moment, he resumed staring at the ground, his cheeks beginning to turn pink. "Yes, I am going on a . . . a picnic. Would you like to . . . to . . ."  
  
Rosie's face brightened visibly, and her eyes shone. "You want me to come with you on a picnic Sam?! Oh, how wonderful! I'd love to!"  
  
They both sighed in relief, ignorant of the fact that the other was doing the same.  
  
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"Here looks like a good spot!" Said Rosie, pointing to a large grassy field next to a clear lake. "Let's stop here!"  
  
So they halted, laying the blanket down on the grass. Opening the basket, they found it filled with lots of delicious food, for which Sam was thankful, considering he fact that Merry and Pippin had insisted on packing it without Sam even knowing what they planned to pack. The small sandwiches, fruit, and cookies were a welcome surprise, knowing what pranks Merry and Pippin could have played in that situation.  
  
Sam looked up, seeing Rosie taking small bites from her sandwich. 'She's so beautiful,' he thought to himself. 'If only I could tell her.'  
  
He decided to get up the courage to try. "Rosie," he said suddenly. She glanced up at him, and observing the look in his eyes, sat up straight and listened hopefully. "I just wanted to say . . . that . . . well, that . . ." He bit his lip. It was useless. "Um, would you like another sandwich?"  
  
Rosie's face fell, "Oh. No thanks, Sam."  
  
*******************************************  
  
They sat there for quite a while, eating and talking. Then, the sun began to set, throwing rays of color across the evening sky, giving its last show of splendor before it would slip beneath the horizon.  
  
"It's so beautiful." Whispered Rosie. Then, wordlessly, she slid her hand into Sam's, and leaned her head on his shoulder. Sam's heart began to flutter. He decided to try again.  
  
"Rosie?"  
  
"Yes," she mumbled, still enthralled by the sunset.  
  
"I wanted to tell . . . to tell you . . ."  
  
Rosie sat up. Suddenly the sunset wasn't that interesting.  
  
"That . . . that . . ." Again, it was useless. "Before I forget," he whispered instead, "I've got something for you." He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out the glass rose. Rosie gasped.  
  
"Oh Sam!" She exclaimed. "I . . . I don't know what to say!" She took it gingerly as he placed it into her palm.  
  
"I thought you would like it." He said, smiling.  
  
She held it up, letting it catch the last of the dying sun's rays. "I've never seen a glass figure as pretty as this! Where on earth did you find it?"  
  
"It used to belong to my mother."  
  
Rosie, startled, sent a shocked look in his direction. "Your mother? You gave me something that was your mother's? Sam, I . . . oh gosh," she reached up and hurriedly wiped a tear from the corner of her eye before it could fall. Then, unable to hold back any longer, she flung her arms around him, and hugged him tightly. "Thank you Sam. Thank you very much."  
  
*************************************************  
  
Before long, it was time to head back to their homes. After reaching the Cotton Farm, they stood outside for a few moments, hand in hand. Sam sighed. He'd been trying all day to tell her how he felt about her, but he lost his tongue every time. After chewing on his bottom lip a moment, he resolved to try once more.  
  
"Rosie," he began slowly, noticing for the first time the way her eyes shimmered when he said her name. "I just wanted to say that, well, I think that . . I think that, um . . . I had a nice time tonight." He grimaced, frustrated. That wasn't all that he meant to say.  
  
Nonetheless, Rosie smiled one of her frequent smiles. "I had a nice time too, Sam"  
  
There was an uncertain pause.  
  
Suddenly, Rosie spoke up. "I know, Sam, that you're going with your Master to Crickhollow tomorrow."  
  
Sam's spirits fell. " . . .Yes."  
  
Rosie looked imploringly at him. "I just wanted to make sure that, you know, since it isn't really all that far from here, that you would be sure to come and visit me often."  
  
Sam shifted uneasily, remembering Frodo's words, 'the others don't know that we're not going to stay in Crickhollow. They think that you'll still be able to come back here and visit her, but you're not, Sam.'  
  
Sam cleared his throat, but then caught her entreating glance, and through the darkness, could make out the glisten of unshed tears. He wanted anything in the world not to hurt her, but he had to tell her the truth. His breaths became shaky, as he opened his mouth to answer, only to find that he could not get the words past his lips. Finally, he whispered softly. "Of course I'll come back and visit you Rosie." His heart had defeated him.  
  
He saw the apprehension in her expression alleviate, and smiled, blinking back tears. "I knew you would, Sam." Her voice was filled with nothing but tenderness, but Sam found that her words seemed to cut him like a knife.  
  
He avoided her gaze, dolefully. "I'll see you tomorrow, before we set off, okay Rosie? Goodnight."  
  
He slowly releases his hand that she had been grasping. "Goodnight, Sam."  
  
Then, as she walked with a light step into her hobbit hole, Sam trudged home with heavy feet. He had tried to save her form being hurt, but he feared that by lying to her, he had hurt her all the worse. Yet he found that he didn't have the heart to tell her otherwise.  
  
TBC 


	7. Eneg

Hello! I am back! I honestly tried to update yesterday, but every time I tried to log in, it told me to "come back in a few hours." I kept trying until 9:46 PM (exactly), and considering the fact that I would need to get up at about six this morning, I decided that I would not stay up any later or else I would be a walking zombie. It's so irritating! Something always gets in the way of my updating! Grr!  
  
(By the way: Thanks illuminator! It's great to get reviews from writers that you admire!)  
  
Okay, this is the last Elvishly (I don't think that's a word) numbered chapter, and there will only be one more after this.  
  
Just so you know, I almost cried when I wrote this. Enjoy!  
  
*************************************************  
  
With Merry and Fatty having driven the last wagon to Crickhollow that morning, Frodo, Fatty, and Sam were left to enjoy (or in Sam's case suffer through) their last dinner at Bag End. Pippin plowed his way through eagerly, but Frodo ate slower, grieved by Sam's gloomy mood, for he had guessed why he was so miserable and it hurt him terribly to see Sam picking at his food disinterestedly, much to Pippin's distress.  
  
"Sam!" Pippin exclaimed. "What's the matter with you! That's a perfectly good meal sitting right in front of you! Food is supposed to eaten, not stared at!"  
  
Sam dropped his fork on the table with a loud clatter. "Sorry," he mumbled. "Just not very hungry."  
  
"Not hungry?" Pippin grabbed the fork and forced it back into Sam's hand. "Eat! We're going to be walking remember? We don't want you keeling over after only a few miles! At that rate we'd never get to Crickhollow!"  
  
Sam cringed visibly at the mention of their journey. Frodo, seeing Sam's eyes begin to tear up and knowing that Pippin planned to pursue the matter, decided to change the subject quickly. "Well, I wonder if we should leave some spoons in the drawer for Lobelia. What do you think about that Pippin?"  
  
Pippin started laughing through a mouthful of half-chewed food, and even Sam managed to smile faintly, though it did not cover the sorrow in his eyes.  
  
**********************************************************  
  
" 'Our last meal at Bag End!' said Frodo, pushing back his chair. They left the washing up for Lobelia. Pippin and Sam strapped up their three packs and piled them in the porch. Pippin went out for one last stroll in the garden. Sam disappeared."  
  
(FOTR ch. 3)  
  
**********************************************************  
  
Sam was running. Running as if the devil was behind him, tears streaking his cheeks. As soon as dinner had ended, and Frodo and Pippin became too occupied to notice if he was gone, he had left, sprinting as fast as he could, not stopping even when his breaths came in gasps and his stomach ached. He didn't care. He deserved it.  
  
He had lied to himself, thinking he could soothe the hurts of parting by avoiding the pain, only to find that the lie had only hurt him worse, devouring him form the inside out. He could only imagine what would happen to Rosie when he and Frodo never came back. He had PROMISED her that he would visit her! He had never broken a promise in his life, never even told a lie, but the hope in Rosie's eyes had prompted him to bend the rules, deceiving her for what had though was her own good. But it wasn't. How could have ever thought it was? That was why he was running.  
  
Frodo and Pippin didn't know he had left; probably thought he was spending his last moments in Hobbiton in the cellar bidding the beer barrels farewell. Well, so much the better, for he only wanted one other to know why he was out here, running frantically towards the Cotton farm.  
  
As he raced up the path to the door, he could see Rosie in the kitchen, through one of the small round windows. She looked up from her work, her face changing from a smile, to a worried frown when she saw his haste. She threw down the dishtowel and ran out the door to see what was the matter.  
  
"Sam! What are you doing out here? Aren't you supposed to be leaving for Crickhollow with your master? Why are you still here? Why are you running? Did something bad happen?" Her questions spurred from her mouth rapidly, her voice strained, wondering what in the world could have happened to distress her Sam so.  
  
Sam ran the last few paces separating him from his darling Rosie, and then fell to his knees before her, sobbing so hard that he could not say a word.  
  
Rosie threw herself down beside him, hugging his gently. "Shh, its okay Sam." She whispered gently, angry with herself for being so fretful and frightened earlier, for she feared it had made him even more upset. "Don't cry Sam."  
  
Sam let his tears lessen a little, and then whispered hoarsely. "I'm so sorry Rosie."  
  
"Sorry for what?" she asked, puzzled.  
  
"I lied." He croaked, talking a difficult task after his violent sobs.  
  
"Lied about what, Sam." She brushed his hair from his forehead. What could he have said that would have made him so upset? He did not answer, so she tried again. "Sam, it's okay. You can tell me . . ."  
  
"It's not okay!" He suddenly yelled, tears streaming anew from his eyes. "I lied to you! I gave you a promise I could not keep! My master and I are not staying in Crickhollow! We are going father, we are leaving the Shire, maybe never to return! Rosie, I can't come visit you! Even though my heart begs me to stay, my place is with my master, and I can't let him go alone! I'm so sorry!" His voice cracked at this last shout, and he then broke down sobbing once more.  
  
Rosie was silent, one hand clasped over her mouth. Had he just said what she thought he did? "Oh Sam!" she cried suddenly, leaning fully against him. They sat there for long while, clinging to each other and each trying to comfort the other.  
  
Sam pulled away from the embrace, and tilted Rosie's head up to meet her eyes. "I'm sorry Rosie." He repeated. "I just didn't want to hurt you." Just as much as she was looking into his eyes, he was looking into her honey-brown ones, seeing nothing but absolute love for him.  
  
Even more tears threatening to spill, he decided, one last time, to tell her what he'd been wanting to tell her ever since he met her. "Rosie," he said. "For a long time, I've been wanting to tell you something." He took a deep breathing, thankful that he hadn't lost the words yet. "I just wanted . . . to tell you how I . . . I feel about you . . ." His last few words trailed off.  
  
Rosie, her expression growing determined as he was speaking, leaned forward until her face was right up close to his. "Then how about this Sam," she said firmly. "Why don't I tell YOU what I think about you?"  
  
Even if Sam would have been able to speak, he didn't have the time for she grabbed his face in her hands and kissed him long and hard.  
  
After she finally released him, she was glad to see resolve growing in his eyes as well. She was even more pleased when he said to her. "I told you that we might never return. Well that doesn't rule out the possibility." He took her hands in his, though his were trembling despite the newfound tenacity. Don't cry Rosie. I'll be back. I promise."  
  
Rosie's jovial smile spread across her face, beautiful even with the sadness that joined it. "I'll be here Sam. Even if you're gone 'til the Sun dies, I'll be waiting for you."  
  
They embraced one last time.  
  
*************************************************  
  
Frodo and Pippin, shouldering their packs, looked around the house for Sam, not finding him anywhere. Finally, Frodo yelled, "Sam! Sam! Time!"  
  
He was grateful to hear a faint, "Coming sir!" And after a few moments, Sam came into view, walking around from the back of Bag End. He smiled reassuringly at Frodo, relieving the tension that had plagued them both.  
  
Then the three of them began their journey . . .  
  
TBC 


	8. A Promise Fulfilled: The Gardener and Hi...

Once again, sorry for not updating sooner. I just got back last night from raiding Lancaster County, PA on a shopping trip. I even bought a really nice set of The Lord of the Rings books, (a good thing, seeing as how my older copies are each in about five pieces from repeated use).  
  
This will be the final chapter of His Rose! (And a long one at that) After this, I think I might write a Silmarillion story.  
  
For people who like my stories:  
  
Check out illuminator's Sam and Rosie story! If you like mine, you'll love that one!  
  
Also check out Sigil's stories! Especially Kinsinger! I really liked it, and I think that if she gets enough encouragement, she'll continue it!  
  
Okay then! On with the final chapter! (By the way, this is a continuation of the first chapter; meaning it takes place at a different time than the Elvishly numbered ones.)  
  
Enjoy!  
  
***********************************************  
  
Rosie gently stowed the glass rose back in her apron pocket, and looked up and the darkening sky. She knew that she should be heading home, especially because of the ruffians roaming the Shire, but she had needed this moment alone, and though she had been sitting against the tree for some time, she was not quite finished thinking and reflecting yet. Thankfully, she had at least managed to finally get her emotions under control.  
  
She sighed, closing her eyes and leaned her head back to rest on the bark. For some reason, this tree had always seemed to comfort her. It almost reminded her of . . .  
  
"Awake! Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes!"  
  
As the horn blasts ripped through the air, Rosie leapt to her feet before even realizing what was going on. It took her a moment to refocus her mind to the present moment, and hear the forceful echoes of a powerful horn.  
  
"Awake! Fear! Fire! Foes! Awake!"  
  
Rosie's mouth twitched. 'Well,' she mused. 'So much for my quiet time.' Then, hearing the horn blast again, she thought, puzzled, 'the Horn-cry of Buckland? What's going on?'  
  
She stepped from her place by the tree, and went onto the road. It seemed that she was not the only one wondering what the horns were about. Dozens of Hobbits poured out from their homes, looking about, side to side and up and down, in a state of bewilderment.  
  
A few moments later, Rosie caught sight of a few more Hobbit-lads running down the road, yelling something faintly. Rosie lifted up her skirt and began to hasten towards them. What were they yelling about? What was happening? The air was thick with anticipation. Something was happening, or about to happen, that was big . . . really big.  
  
As Rosie neared the seemingly exhilarated boys, a crowd slowly gathered around them, trying to pull out information. The boys were clearly out of breath from their run, and spoke in turn between gasps. Squeezing up against the edge of the crowd, and standing on her tiptoes, Rosie tried to hear what was being said, but she could only catch snatches of the talk:  
  
" . . . riding through . . . ponies . . ."  
  
" . . . had a . . . horn . . ."  
  
" . . . I cannot believe . . . came back . . ."  
  
" . . . raising . . . Shire . . ."  
  
Came back? Raising the Shire? Rosie pulled herself from her entanglement in the crowd and backed away slowly. Who? Could it be?  
  
Suddenly, Rosie spun around and ran home with such haste that all who were going the other direction, jumped out of her way to avoid getting trampled.  
  
********************************************************  
  
Rosie ran up the path to her door and burst through, only to crash straight into her father and brothers.  
  
"Rosie!" Farmer Cotton exclaimed. "What are you doing crashing through doors like that? You're going to get somebody killed!"  
  
Rosie pushed herself up from the floor and brushed off her dress. "Sorry, Papa, but I had to tell you . . ."  
  
"Not now Rosie!" Her father interrupted. "Something is going on, and your brothers and I have to go out and see what it is!"  
  
" I know, Papa, that's what I . . ."  
  
"Now you stay inside Rosie dear, I don't want you out there if something dangerous happens."  
  
"But Papa . . ."  
  
"Stay here!"  
  
With that last order, Farmer Cotton gave his daughter a look that spelled certain doom if she disobeyed, and then he and the three boys rushed outside. Rosie stood staring at the back of the closed door for a moment, so frustrated that she thought she would explode.  
  
Telling herself that she would rather get in trouble than explode, she grabbed the doorknob and followed her father and brothers outside. She was relieved to see her mother and youngest brother outside as well, and guessed that they had also disobeyed Farmer Cotton. Stubbornness ran in the family.  
  
Rosie squinted her eyes to try to see better. It was now very dark, and except for the faint silhouettes of her family, she could see nothing, and except for her brothers' hurried whispers and the now distant horn-cries, the night was filled with silence.  
  
Then, she all of a sudden heard quick hoof beats. Her brothers ceased their whispers, and followed their father as he walked down the path to meet the rider.  
  
Rosie strained her ears, and discerned that the hoof beat were getting louder and closer. Closer? Where was this rider headed? Rosie's heart quickened until its beats matched those of the horse. Horse?  
  
Rosie suddenly heard her father say aloud, "Nay! It's not one of them ruffians! It's a hobbit by the size of it, but all dressed up queer."  
  
Rosie's heart began to beat even faster.  
  
"Hey you!" She heard her father cry to the stranger, or so it seemed. "Who are you, and what's all this to-do?"  
  
"It's Sam, Sam Gamgee. I've come back."  
  
Rosie's heart skipped a beat. She heard her father respond, but she couldn't hear what it was through the roaring that now filled her ears. The world began to spin, and Rosie wondered if she was going to faint.  
  
She got control of her senses just in time to hear Sam say, " . . . And that's the to-do. They're raising the Shire. We're going to clear out these ruffians and their Chief too. We're starting now."  
  
Rosie was mystified. Was this her Sam talking? Was this the same Sam that fell off the road and twisted his ankle? The same Sam that spent his life watering flowers in the garden?  
  
There were the sounds of someone dismounting, and then the face that Rosie knew and loved came into view. She smiled. Yes, it was the same Sam.  
  
******************************************************  
  
Later that night, the four returning Hobbits, Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin, along with Sam's Gaffer settled in at the Cotton farm to stay for the remainder of the night. However, though it was late, they all stayed up for a few hours, talking and exchanging news and thoughts. Rosie stayed up as well, determined to spend as much time with her Sam as possible.  
  
Earlier, she was reluctant to display her joy at his return as much as she had wished to. She had wanted more than anything to fling her arms around him and kiss him until he suffocated, but knowing how he was (or at least how he had been before his quest), she knew he would be embarrassed if she kissed and hugged him in front of her entire family. Not that she cared if they knew. She was simply waiting for an opportunity for them to be alone. Unfortunately that opportunity hadn't risen yet.  
  
She abruptly tuned in to the conversation upon hearing Sam's name.  
  
"And I hope my Sam's behaved himself and given satisfaction?" The Gaffer was saying.  
  
"Perfect satisfaction." Frodo replied. Rosie looked over at Sam who was looking down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. She smiled. He may be a little different, but he was still as humble as ever.  
  
"Indeed, if you would believe it," Frodo continued, "he's now one of the most famous people in all the lands, and they are making songs about his deeds from here to the Sea and beyond the Great River."  
  
Rosie's mouth dropped open. Her Sam? A hero being praised throughout Middle Earth? She hid a grin as she saw him give Frodo a thankful look. So he wanted to impress her? Rosie's grin slipped out from under cover. He succeeded.  
  
The talk around the table continued, but from that moment on, both Sam and Rosie had unofficially excluded themselves from the conversation, now both sitting quietly at one end of the table.  
  
They both looked at each other and their eyes met. Rosie held his gaze, but was shocked to see that he no longer blushed when he looked at her. Suddenly, Rosie was further surprised to see a new expression spread over Sam's face. It was sweet, but a little mischievous. Had she ever seen that look on his face before? Rosie leaned over and whispered in his ear, "What are you thinking about, Sam?"  
  
His smile grew wider. "I think I'm finally ready."  
  
"For what?"  
  
"To tell you something I've wanted to say for a long time." Sam pulled her hair back from her face. "I love you Rosie."  
  
Before Rosie could respond, Sam kissed her, not caring that everyone had stopped talking and were staring directly at them. Rosie returned the kiss, her arms reaching up to wrap around him, remembering the kiss she had given him in the very same manner the day he had left, and the words that were spoken.  
  
'Don't cry Rosie.'  
  
Rosie felt tears splashing down her cheeks, but for once she did not try to hide them. If her lips had not been occupied, she would have dared to say aloud, "Look Sam! I'm crying. You told me not to cry, and I have often kept myself from it, but I've learned something since then. Tears do not hurt, they only cleanse. See each of these tear drops? Each one is a well of emotion holding my love for you."  
  
'I'll be back. I promise.'  
  
He had promised, and he had kept his word, and now they were together: The gardener and his rose.  
  
The end. 


End file.
